


Beauty and The Werewolf

by lostintheshadows



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 22:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostintheshadows/pseuds/lostintheshadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus John Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. It was written in the stars. They were meant to be but who said love was all plain sailing? After Tonks' friend is killed, Remus starts to realise that there is more to her than meets the eye. Can love prevail over pride and make beast fall in love with the beauty?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beauty and The Werewolf

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Harry Potter. All rights go to J.K. Rowling.

Her breath fogs in the frigid air of the sprawling city – spiralling up to nestle among the thick, grey clouds, lost within the atmosphere. Her eyes sparkle as she takes in the scene before her. They sparkle not with happiness – but with mournful longing, disquiet and a hopeless sense of dejectedness. The eyes that once exuded intelligence and knowledge – are now dull and lifeless.

 The traffic fumes mingle with the overwhelming stench of recent rainfall, making her stomach lurch. Her face crumples and she bites her lip.

_Rule number one; Never let anyone see you cry._

It has started to snow, young children shriek with delight as the white, frozen rains falls from the sky – washing away the stark, greyness of the massive, sprawling city. Tonks tips her face up the the heavens, allowing the dusty flakes to settle upon her face. She closes her eyes and disregards the pain from the icy, biting wind, wanting to get lost in the howling abyss – to go to sleep and never wake up.

A shadow falls across her, blocking the already dim light that is filtering through the park railings. She opens her eyes, annoyed, getting ready to snap at them. Her jaw snaps shut when she spots who it is. Remus Lupin is standing before her, looking haggard and tired, his greying hair is sticking up all over the place and he has three day stubble wending its way across his chin.

His eyes are blank, emotionless voids. He has the perfect poker face, even Severus Snape would struggle to read his mind. He sits down next to Tonks, wincing as the cold seeps through his khaki trousers. No one speaks for a while, content to just sit and watch as the flurry of snow becomes quicker, more harried – as if the world will end if it doesn't fall fast enough.

It feels ironic to Tonks that she feels that way about the snow when that had been how she acted during school, racing round school like a demented rabbit – going from friendship to friendship like her life depended upon it. Now – a fully trained auror, Tonks has changed in more ways than she could have ever imagined.

“Tonks,” Remus starts, breath spiralling upwards and mingling with Tonks'

 His voice is alight with confusion, a breathy mixture of cynicism and self-doubt that takes Tonks by surprise. She lifts tortured eyes towards Remus' own blue orbs, searching for goodness knows what.

 “Yes, Remus, what is it?” Tonks says.

 Remus is taken aback by the harshness of her voice, cold and sharp as a knife edge. What happened to the clumsy, vibrant woman that they all loved?

 “I..Nothing,” Remus struggles for what to say.

What can you say to someone who has just found out their best friend has died? Their friend since primary school, struck down by a killing curse cast by a wand happy psychopath. He says nothing, drawing his cloak around him, watching as the families leave the park as the mercury hits zero. Despite himself, Remus smiles as he hears an old drunkard grumbling about the weather, typical British people, moaning about the weather.

“Where do I go from here, Remus?” Tonks finally asks, turning to face him. “How do I move on?”

Remus sighs inwardly, how is he supposed to answer her question? In all honesty, he doesn't know. You can never move on when the one you love dies, it fills you up, it consumes you, it takes away your dignity and self-respect. You're a changed person with a changeling personality. Nope, you can never move on.

“You honour their memory, you never forget them but you get on with your life. Sitting and brooding won't bring them back. You live the life they cannot, you make them proud,” says Remus passionately, eyes alight with a kind of feverish fervour.

 He implores Tonks to try and understand what he's trying to say, you never move on but that doesn't mean you cannot live. He wants to explain to her that death is natural, that it's the circle of life, some people die young, some don't. But he doesn't – because he knows it's not what she wants to hear. It's not what he wants to hear either.

“How can I honour her memory? How can I remember the good times, Remus?” says Tonks, her pessimistic qualities coming into play.

“In time, it gets easier, I know it sounds cliché, Tonks, but it's true. You never forget, sometimes – your memories assault you and it hurts but I promise you, you will make it through the other side, as long as you allow yourself,” Remus breaths, shivering as the wind nips at his extremities.

 “I'm scared, I don't want to be a part of all this death and destruction anymore,” Tonks says, her breathing is speeding up, her eyes dewy with moisture.

Unconsciously, almost as if invisible hands are pushing him onwards, Remus shuffles closer to Tonks, wrapping an arm around her trembling shoulders and staring out at the distance. He doesn't know what to say – he cannot promise they'll come out of this war alive – for all he knows, they won't.

“I can't promise that people won't die, Tonks. But I can promise you that we will do our utmost to prevent as many deaths as possible, Jenna's-” here, Remus' throat constricts and he has to take a deep, composing breath. “-Jenna's death was a tragic accident, she was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, you can't let this war rule your life.”

Tonks lets her chin drop to her chest, taking deep, unsteady breaths. Remus is only trying to help but he's not making her feel any better, she doesn't understand why – but she has felt out of place around the werewolf recently.'

 “I know that,” Tonks whispers hoarsely, swallowing a painful lump in her throat.

 She cannot break down, if she cries – she is weak.

_Rule number two; never show your weakness._

For some reason, she doesn't want Remus to see her cry, to see her at her most vulnerable. The thought mortifies her beyond belief. Remus – unfortunately, Remus is stubborn as they come and as such, won't stand down when a friend is in need, no matter how awkward their friendship is at this moment.

“Let it go, Tonks. You can't keep it inside of you forever,” Remus whispers, wandering what on earth he is doing, sitting on a cold park bench, practically cuddled up to the young woman, telling her to cry.

Tonks peers curiously at him, wandering why he's so insistent on letting your emotions out. Is he talking from personal experience? Remus' words have a profound effect on her, she feels as if poison is spreading through her body as the tears that have waited so long finally come. Her shoulders droop and she breaks down, embarrassed that Remus Lupin, werewolf and ex-professor is there to witness her moment of weakness.

Without thinking, Remus reaches out and pulls her to his chest, pressing her head to his shoulder and holding her tight as she succumbs to the pain that has burrowed deep inside of her. Salty tears freeze on her ashen face in the frigid, winter air, melting into Remus' chest. To her dismay, she finds she cannot stop – so gives in and lets the tears come.

As her tears subside, Tonks is painfully aware that she is half on – half off Remus' lap, face buried in the nape of his neck. A warm tingly feeling spreads through her, making her feel light-headed and giddy. Abruptly, she pulls away, blushing furiously and resolutely breaking eye contact.

“Lets get you inside. You'll catch your death of cold out here,” Remus murmurs, feeling slightly flustered.

“Do you know where that saying originates from?” Tonks suddenly blurts.

Remus tries to hide his incredulous expression. She has just spent the past ten minutes crying and she changes her thought pattern that quick? It is rather disconcerting.

“No, I,” he starts to say – but is cut off by Tonks holding her hand up, looking desperate.

It is then that he understands. She's testing him, testing herself. She wants to let him know that she still has her intellect, her thirst for knowledge, her sanity. He rubs a hand over his head and shakes his head. For many people didn't know that about Nymphadora Tonks, but she was rather intelligent, perhaps as intelligent as Hermione. Remus was one of the few that had the honour of knowing.

“No, why?” he humours her.

A small smile tugs at her lips, a smile that doesn't reach her eyes but a smile nonetheless.

“It's an idiom, but you probably knew that already,” Tonks says wryly. “it dates back to ancient times when germs didn't 'exist'. It was said, that those who worked in cold, wet conditions in harvest always brought back colds and viruses and of course, people died from colds back then.”

Remus doesn't quite know what to say. He stares gormlessly at her before sighing and getting to his feet, extending a hand for her to take. Tonks takes his hand, stomach lurching pleasantly at the tingles that spread through her at his touch.

Together, they walk through the stark, bleak streets, trying not to stare at the strange muggles who have been dumped in the area. Remus recalled his mother calling them riff-raff. He didn't share the same opinions of her, he treated everyone as they deserved to be treated; nothing more, nothing less.

A cough jerks him out of his musings. He blinks and turns to see Tonks standing on the doorstep of Number Twelve, looking bemused that he has been standing, staring into space for the past ten minutes.

"Aren't you coming in?” Tonks asks jerkily, chewing on her bottom lip.

Smiling weakly, Remus shakes himself and follows Tonks into the old, gloomy house. The house that Sirius hated so much. The thought is hard to bear. He glares at the decapitated house elf heads and the peeling, greasy wallpaper. How did Sirius cope? It hurts Remus to imagine Sirius prowling round the house on his own, perhaps having a lonely meal with Buckbeak.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
